


2. Fisticuffs

by ZsadistCortel



Series: Hetalia USUK 100 Theme Drabbles [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Canada being an awesome bro, Comfort, Fist Fights, Insecurity, Literal France Bashing, M/M, Threat of a Switzerland and Germany Lecture, world meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-20 23:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZsadistCortel/pseuds/ZsadistCortel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>100+ themed drabbles starring America and England (and featuring their relationship with one another in different universes, times, and situations).</p>
            </blockquote>





	2. Fisticuffs

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia

 

  1. Fisticuffs




 

 

The world meeting was continuing as usual; Germany was shouting, Italy was asking for a pasta break, France and England were arguing, Russia was being creepy, South Italy was scowling at Germany and Spain, and America was attempting to make everyone his backup. England suddenly let out a cry of rage, halting all other movement in the conference room.  Everyone jerked their heads in the direction of the distressed Brit. 

 

France was on the floor in front of him, his face had a bruise the shape of a hand on the left side.  France was smirking, even through the pain of the powerful hit.  England saw this and tackled the Frenchman, who had been sitting up as if he were getting ready to stand again, back to the ground and began punching and hitting and scratching at any part of France he could reach.  Everyone else was too stunned to move.  Regaining his senses America quickly restrained his former mentor, lifting him off the Frog and dragging him out into the hallway.  A bleeding and bruised France was being fussed over by Seychelles, Canada, and Spain.  All the while South Italy scowled at his Spanish lover, upset he was paying such attention to a pervert like France.

 

England kicked and flailed, trying to break free of the taller nation's monstrous hold.  Naturally, he failed miserably.  After he had tired himself out and was a bit calmer, England sagged in America's arms.  He was panting just a bit, trying to catch his breath.  America frowned down at his captive, curious.  “What did he say to make you go off like  that?”  England mumbled something unintelligible under his breath.  “What?  I didn't hear you.” England sighed angrily.

 

“I said....that he.....he insulted my eyebrows and made a crude remark about our relationship....,” England turned in America's arms so he could hide his face in the blue-eyed man's chest.  America winced, ignoring the first insult and focusing in on the second. That was a touchy subject, even more so than England's cooking or eyebrows were.  England was very self conscious about the relationship he had developed with his former protege.  Trust France to use such a low blow in a petty argument.  It served him right, getting beat up by the British nation.  But France didn't matter now; England mattered.  England was the only thing that mattered.

 

“Oh, Iggy,”  America tightened his hold on the green-eyed man in an attempt to give him some comfort.  “There is nothing wrong with us being together.  Nothing!  Do you hear me?”  England nodded against the front of the American's shirt.  “Good!  Forget France. He's an idiot, after all.”  After a bit  England leaned back in his love's arms, calm once more, and locked green with blue.  His face clearly said he was amused. 

 

“He is, isn't he.  At least we all know that.  I swear the man thinks he's a bloody genius when he has an IQ of 7.  Stupid perverted frog.”  England snickered a bit.  America was just happy that England wasn't in a violent mood anymore.  He'd get a scolding from Germany and Switzerland if he couldn't manage to calm England down enough so that he could go back to the meeting.  And those scoldings sucked.  His cell phone vibrated in his pants pocket.  Canada, his little brother and neighbor, had sent him a text.  He held it up behind England's head and scanned the message quickly before stowing the phone once more.  America sighed in relief and rested his chin on top of his lover's head.

 

“Ready to go back in now?”

 

“I suppose...., but if that bloody bastard says another word!”

 

“Chill out, Iggy!  It's fine now.  Besides, I think they took France to the infirmary to treat his injuries....that or he conned someone into driving him home.  Either way he's not in there anymore!”  England looked skeptical.

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“Duh!  Canada text me just now to say you could come back in because he's gone.  But we'll probably be in for a lecture from Germany and Switzerland.  How about we just skip out on the rest of the meeting and go to McDonald's?”  The hopeful look on the younger nation's face was too much.  England had no choice but to cave in and agree to skip the rest of the conference for McDonald's.  Even if the food was awful, it made America happy.  And that made England happy, so he could suffer through the terrible food instead of going home and cooking his own meal (His food was delicious, no matter what all the others said!  It beat anything Scotland had ever cooked, that was for sure!). 

 

America realized that he had won and proceeded to text Canada that they were leaving and to tell the others.....That is, if he could get their attention long enough to do it.  The duo headed out into the sunshine, intent on forgetting France and enjoying the time together. Fist fights and meetings be damned!

 

 

_***The End**_ *

 


End file.
